Racket Monster

Being too early could have been a sign of obsession. Being too late would have been a sign of not caring enough. For Yuto, arriving exactly on time felt like the safest strategy.

He approached the railing of the stands and leaned against it, observing the tennis court below where Sumire was making her entrance.

Dressed in her usual tennis uniform, it was nevertheless the first time Yuto had seen her like this. The sight struck him as sharply as if his head had been hit by a racket. Hopefully, Sumire wouldn’t hit him—otherwise his head would quickly end up as pulp.

A light sparkled in his eyes, and his gaze couldn’t detach from her. He followed her silhouette all the way to the bench where she sat down silently, focusing on her upcoming game.

“Should I really be here?” he thought, running his hands down his face before tipping his head back toward the sky and letting out a long, exhausted sigh. “I couldn’t refuse an invitation... but I didn’t have to be so cheerful about it. Wait… should I really call that an invitation!? I basically forced her into it and she couldn’t refuse!”

He refocused his gaze on her, trying not to be distracted by how she looked.

“Perhaps this could help me understand her better in order to prepare her training for the play… yeah. Let’s go with that!”

The referee finally blew his whistle to start the first match. Yuto straightened slightly and concentrated so as not to miss a thing.

Sumire was the same as always. A cold face, but swift movements. Not a trace of sweat—though that certainly didn’t mean she was holding back.

“So where is this supposed monster that I hear about every day?” Yuto thought.

The intensity of the match kept rising as Sumire won point after point. But that wasn’t the only thing increasing. Her investment and effort climbed just as fast. She was one set away from winning the entire match, leaving her opponent with none. And yet, instead of relaxing, she pushed even harder to secure the victory.

In tennis, players usually shout when they hit the ball, as if somehow it would give them more power. Not everyone could be a superhero, so there was no real need for it—but they did it anyway. Sumire was no exception. Though hers, as the match went on, began to resemble the cries of an angry cavewoman unleashing her rage on an unsuspecting mammoth.

This rage surprised Yuto, who instinctively stepped back when he saw Sumire’s usually cold face shift into something far more expressive. She was fully immersed in her match, to the point that her emotions were practically sweating through her skin. She didn’t give a damn about what scream slipped out of her mouth, or about any drop of sweat running down her face.

“Oh now this is intense!” he thought, a faint and soft smile appearing on his face. “I should encourage her… at least show that I’m supporting her.”

He cleared his throat and cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Crush her, Yozora!” he shouted with all his might.

Sumire heard her name and turned her head toward him, distracted. Staring straight into Yuto’s eyes, she blushed softly and couldn’t tear her gaze away.

It was only when the referee blew his whistle a second later that she looked back at the score and realized she had lost the set.

She stared at the ground in disappointment.

But it didn’t last long. She went back into her tennis beast mode and continued exactly as before.

Every supporter around Yuto slowly turned their heads toward him and judged him with suspicious eyes.

Not having attended many tennis matches, Yuto didn’t known about the sacred supporter etiquette of staying silent. He tried to apologize with feeble excuses, shrinking under their stares, utterly embarrassed by his own stupidity.

“Girlfriend?” an old man asked.

“Girlfriend?” Yuto replied, confused.

“Yes. Girlfriend. I’m the old man here—you shouldn't be the one who's hard of hearing,” the man laughed softly.

“Girlfriend…” The word triggered something in Yuto’s brain, but he didn’t understand what or why. “Well… I’m more of her mentor… you know… like a superior or something like that,” he said, struggling to find the right words.

“What kind of kinks are those…” the man muttered suspiciously.

“It’s not what you think, I promise,” Yuto replied firmly, while the old man continued judging him with a very doubtful look.

“Hey, don’t you think this girl is cute?” another man in his twenties said, pointing toward Sumire.

“Cute?”

This word struck Yuto’s mind once again. He looked at her. Then he stared. Then he inspected her more carefully, as if trying to solve a complicated equation. For the first time in a while, he blushed a little.

“Well yeah… she is pretty… pretty mesmerizing, I would say,” he thought, watching her little ponytail bounce behind her with every movement.

“The winner is Sumire Yozora. She’ll now advance to the second stage of the tournament,” the referee shouted.

Sumire clenched her fist tightly to express the joy she felt after the victory, even letting out a “yes” under her breath. Yuto noticed it and smiled without even realizing it.

“If I took up a racket sport, I might have the strength and confidence to set Ryu and Ken straight when they talk too much nonsense… because I already know exactly what they'll say when they find out I was at this competition.”

He watched her with an interested look. She was really captivating his eyes.

“Ryu and Ken really shouldn’t read me like an open book this time. I want to keep certain things to myself, and I know it's complicated with those two. I don't know how they do it, but they always manage to understand what I try to hide.”

Her next opponent was a girl from the same college as Yuto and Sumire, judging from her uniform.

But the moment she stepped onto the court and looked straight into the rage-filled eyes of the beast, awaiting its next prey, she immediately rushed toward the referee and whispered something to him.

“Well… that’s unexpected, but Sumire Yozora wins this match by forfeit!” the referee announced.

The girl instantly started running out of the field.

“Not the Racket Monster, please! I don’t wanna die!” she screamed while escaping.

Sumire looked disappointed. She had been ready to crush her opponent, but she would have to keep that energy inside a little longer. Still, she seemed more disappointed by her reputation as a monster than by the fact that she hadn’t been able to play a single second against this girl.

“It's not that she doesn't want to put emotion into her acting… she just doesn't know how to do it. But she can express herself, that’s for sure,” Yuto thought while analyzing every little reaction she made.

The competition went on until Sumire reached the semifinals after crushing every opponent in her path. The royal road lay open before her. At this pace, she would soon be crowned queen of the field.

She gave it everything in this match.

Everything she had.

Every last drop of her passion for tennis poured into every movement she made, into every scream she shouted.

But that wasn’t enough.

Even as a strong tennis player—a monster for some—she couldn’t win.

Her face hardened even more than usual as she returned to the bench to gather her belongings, forced to abandon the title she might have earned had she played better.

She looked toward the stands. But Yuto wasn’t there anymore.

“That’s right… no one would stay to watch someone who lost… It’s my own fault… again,”

A tear shimmered in the corner of her eye as she quickly wiped it away.

She left the field and waited near the entrance of the building when someone came and sat beside her on the bench. She was too focused on her phone to even look at who it was.

Suddenly, something cold touched her neck. She trembled and let out a small cry.

Finally she lifted her gaze from her phone and looked in surprise at Yuto, who was holding out a water bottle to her.

She didn’t know what to say and simply took it.

“Everything’s alright, Yozora. You did well. Just come to the park tomorrow with your sports outfit,” he said softly before standing, walking away, and waving at her.

“Am I… dreaming… or was that… a true smile?”